Sneaking back into the mines at night is no less terrifying the second time round than the first. I keep my head down and my eyes peeled as I make the short journey.

Continues from Eye on The Pen II

Andrew is waiting for me. He gulps down the water I offer, but pushes away the food. “No, just leave it here with me. I need to explain to you how to get out. It’s best to go now, while it’s still dark. You need to – ”

“Stop,” I say firmly. “I’m not just going to leave you here. You’re coming with me.” 

“Tracey, you know that’s not possible. The eye can track me anywhere within the walls. It can – rumours are it can even kill at a command from the Masters. I’d be dead before we made it out.”

I steel myself for what I have decided to do. I know very well how this may end up – with Andrew and me both dying in the pen – but I have to try.”

“We’re going together,” I say firmly, my eyes scanning the ground. I see a large rock that has become dislodged in the mining process. I heave it up into my arms, and before I can lose my nerve, I swing it at the eye on the edge of the pen.

There is a horrible crunching noise and the eye falls down, almost broken in two.

Andrew’s face is white. “Are you insane?” he whispers, staring at the eye in terror.

“Let’s go!” I say, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the pen. Andrew stumbles but keeps moving.

“Where do we go?” I ask.

He still seems to be in a state of shock.

“Andrew!” I shake him, hard. “Where do we go?”

He seems to come back to himself. “This way,” he says, taking the lead. I sprint after him, trying not to hear the sounds of guards rushing to the pen; evidently, the eye must have sent out some kind of signal when I bashed it. I only hope it is enough, that it won’t be able to track Andrew.

We run between houses, ducking into doorways as guards come past. Somehow, we never seem to run into a patrol.

“I know their routes,” Andrew whispers as we press into another dark doorway. “The runners study them. I learned on my first attempt to escape where I shouldn’t have gone. I never thought I’d have another chance.”

I can see him shaking slightly, mirroring my own feelings. If the eye isn’t properly disabled, he could drop dead at any moment.

I don’t know how long we run for, only that it seems forever. It feels like a dream that I may wake up from at any second.

Finally, we reach the wall. “Wait,” Andrew breathes, watching the guards with intense concentration.

I wait with bated breath. Finally, he grabs my hand and darts towards the wall. The wall is high and smooth, but the stones in this place seem to stick out more – almost as if they’ve been filed away by generations of runners. “Up,” Andrew says tersely, glancing to either side.

I’ve never considered myself to be a good climber, but I fly up the wall like a monkey. Climbing down the other side is harder, but I manage it, dropping the last few feet. Andrew lands beside me, grabs my hand again, and starts running.

We run and run. I don’t know if the guards will pursue us outside the wall. I don’t know if they eye can still track or kill Andrew from this distance. The trees around the wall grow closer and closer together. Both of us get scratches on our arms and legs, and trip over roots a fair number of times.

Neither of us speaks. We are powered by sheer panic, too out of breath to form words. By the time the sun is coming up, we are both fading, more staggering than running.

I spin at a noise to the left, expecting the Masters to appear and take us back to the pen.

Instead, I see a man dressed unlike anything I have ever seen. He seems to be wearing some sort of animal skin. He smiles at us. “You’re runners?”

Andrew and I freeze. What kind of trickery is this?

“It’s ok,” he says, seemingly reading our minds. “There are more of us. Come, I’ll take you to the camp – to your new home, if you will.”

“There are more of you?” I whisper. “The Masters said no one escaped…”

“The Masters lied,” the man says simply. “You’re safe now.”

I turn to Andrew and see tears in his eyes. “Safe,” he whispers.

I throw my arms around him, hardly daring to believe we’ve escaped at last.

Continues... Eye on The Pen IV

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